


Brownian Motion

by 30toseoul



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Reality, Multi, OT4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-02
Updated: 2017-06-02
Packaged: 2018-11-08 07:19:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11076717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/30toseoul/pseuds/30toseoul
Summary: John gets bounced into an alternate reality.





	Brownian Motion

The first odd thing John noticed was when he opened his eyes and found himself sprawled flat on his back with his head resting in Teyla's lap.

He didn't have a lot of time to think about it, though. Rodney was jabbering nervously about strange energy readings from the glass device in the wall, and he and Teyla hauled John quickly to his feet and hustled him out of the half-crumbled building.

"No, we'll come back tomorrow with more equipment," Rodney insisted. "I have no idea what these readings mean. Of course you couldn't wait for an informed answer, could you? Had to touch it and get thrown back on your ass. Very typical, Colonel."

The bitching was normal, at least.

.

The second thing was after his medical exam, when Carson patted John's shoulder and said, "You seem fine. Tell the others to bring you back if you have any symptoms overnight."

Which was kind of a strange comment, but the mess was serving pizza for supper and he didn't feel like asking for clarification. John just said, "Yeah, okay," and made a quick escape from the infirmary.

His team was waiting outside to see if he was okay, like they always did for each other. They went and ate lots of pizza and planned for investigating the funky device on M4T-040 again the next day.

.

The third thing was when he was trying to finish Lorne's OPR and Ronon showed up, leaning in his office doorway and looking at him.

John blinked. He hadn't thought Ronon knew where his office _was._ "Hey," he said.

"Hey," Ronon said. "You almost done with that?"

John looked resentfully at the form on his screen -- because god forbid an officer should ever fight space vampires in another galaxy without having his performance documented precisely according to Air Force Instruction 36-2406. "No, not really. Goddamn paperwork."

"Leave it. It's late."

"Yeah, I guess." He pushed the laptop closed and stood up to stretch. "What's going on?"

"Thought I'd see if you were cracking up. It's usually McKay who has to get pried away from his damn computer."

"With a crowbar," John agreed, grinning.

They talked about the hand-to-hand combat training roster as they walked, and John had almost forgotten the oddness of Ronon coming to his office by the time they reached the personal quarters section.

When he reached to open his door, Ronon stopped abruptly and frowned. "What're you doing?"

John frowned back. "Going inside?"

Ronon stared at him for a couple of seconds. "You must've hit your head harder than Beckett thought. Come on."

.

The fourth thing was when he followed Ronon into the corner suite that people used as a common lounge and everything was completely rearranged. The plasma TV and most of the couches were gone, it was full of personal belongings, and there was a huge platform bed pushed into the far corner.

He lost track of the precise number of odd things after that. When Teyla came out of the bathroom brushing her hair, oddness started piling up faster than he could count. Teyla didn't spend her days wrapped up like a nun, but she also didn't jaunt around the city wearing nothing but a pair of shorts.

John was pretty sure he would've noticed that.

He was frozen in shock when Teyla smiled and said, "There you are," and continued brushing her hair. Which did _amazing_ things to her breasts. "John?"

"Ah... yeah?" He felt like someone had punched him in the stomach, but he tried to focus on her face rather than her (very fantastic) breasts.

"Is something wrong?"

She didn't sound sarcastic. Or threatening. He was staring--very, _very_ deliberately--at her face, and she only seemed curious and a little concerned. John cleared his throat and said, "Wrong? I wasn't... expecting, uh, you... " and waved his hand awkwardly at her general lack of clothes.

"Well, you were late," she said, smiling again, and walked back into the bathroom.

As soon as she was gone, John wheeled around to stare at Ronon, desperate for an explanation, and found no help at all. Ronon was sitting on a bench by the door and tugging his boots off, completely unconcerned and not even looking in John's direction.

John's mouth was halfway open to shout, "What the _hell_ is going on here?" when he saw what was hanging on the wall above Ronon's head.

His Johnny Cash poster.

Which had been hanging securely in his quarters when he left that morning.

Later, he was sort of proud about how quickly he got it. He turned and scanned the big room rapidly and saw--everything he owned, basically: surfboard in a corner, skateboard leaning against a desk, pile of dirty uniforms near a wall locker like he always left them, his books and magazines and laptop--all scattered around and between things that _didn't_ belong to him, and a memory snapped right to the front of his mind. Going for a couple of beers with Jack O'Neill on his last Earthside trip, talking about crazy missions, and O'Neill having just enough whiskey to say that he was fucking fed up with learning about his life in alternate realities.

"John?"

He hadn't registered Teyla coming back out. Except that part of him had, because he was staring at her breasts again. He made himself stop it immediately. "Yeah?" he said, his voice cracking a little.

Teyla was studying him with mild curiosity again, calm and serene and looking just exactly like herself, except that she was sitting _half-naked_ on a _bed_ and obviously expecting him to... do something about it. "Are you all right?" she asked.

"Me? Yeah, I'm... actually, 'fine' is a relative term. Listen, could you put a shirt on? That's kind of--distracting. I need to--"

Teyla gave him a smile that was more than a little impatient. "Thank you, that isn't necessary. You are the one who was late."

"Yeah, listen, there's a reason for that. I have to explain... something to you. It's going to sound a little weird." And then John stopped, frowning to himself, because how _exactly_ was he supposed to explain this? He didn't think he'd ever mentioned alternate realities to his own Teyla and Ronon, so maybe his counterpart hadn't, either. They might just think he was insane.

Teyla sighed, a quick irritated sound, and rose to her knees. "Enough, John. We can talk later. Ronon, bring him over here, please."

"Got it."

"Hey!"

And apparently he wasn't thinking fast enough, wasn't really computing all the factors, because Ronon had both of his arms pinned about two seconds later.

Big hands on his wrists holding them in the middle of his back--and _skin_ , his palms were pressed flat against skin because now _Ronon_ wasn't wearing a shirt either--and John yelped, "Jesus! Ronon, quit it!" in a voice that was more undignified and high-pitched than he intended, and it didn't have any effect. Ronon chuckled over his shoulder and said, "Whatever. You wanted to be in the middle, all you had to do was ask."

John's mind went blank except for _oh my god oh my god_ , blank with incoherent lust, and he didn't recover fast enough. Ronon propelled him firmly across the room, and he'd just started to say, "Wait, you guys, this isn't--" when Ronon pushed him again, and it was either kneel on the edge of the bed or go down on his face.

Teyla slid forward to meet him, also on her knees so they were nearly eye-to-eye. She was smiling like she did after beating him at the fighting sticks. Almost like that, but warmer and darker at the same time. He swallowed hard and started again, reaching for a firm, no-nonsense voice. "Teyla, you have to listen to me. I can't do--"

"It is time for you to stop talking," she said. John barely managed to hold back the _Yes ma'am_ before she leaned in and kissed him.

He remembered how she felt from when he was cranked up on the iratus bug transformation. She'd tasted bright and pulsing and _right_ , like a beacon, and he had to wonder (with his four or five working brain cells) how much of that was from the bug-stuff because this was so close to the same. He could hear himself breathing hard and making barely audible noises into her mouth as she kissed him slowly, her fingertips stroking over the most sensitive places on his neck.

And she was pushing at him the whole time, gradual leverage until his head and shoulders were braced against Ronon's chest. John couldn't see Ronon's face--he couldn't even see Teyla because his eyes had fallen shut already, this was too much, this was fucking _overload_ being pinned between the two of them--but he could hear the change in Ronon's breathing, deeper and slower as he watched them. His hands around John's wrists were squeezing rhythmically, and his thumbs shifted to press into the center of John's palms.

For some reason that movement was so intimate John could hardly stand it. He moaned against Teyla's lips, his fingers curling in reaction.

"Okay?" Ronon said, and he wasn't talking to John because Teyla answered, "Yes, I think so," as she tugged at his t-shirt. Brush of her hands against his stomach muscles making them jump and shiver in reaction. Ronon's hands were turning and lifting his arms straight over his head, and then he let go of John's wrists as Teyla pulled off his shirt.

When he opened his eyes again, he was looking at the only thing he'd missed in his previous frantic scan of the room. The angle had made him miss it. Neat framed rows of diplomas and awards and John was grinning faintly before he knew it, grinning and thinking, _of course he wants them right over the damn bed_ , and the very small, responsible corner of his brain said, _he'll figure this out, that device, he'll get the realities straightened out,_ and then it was a hot delayed rush of _Rodney, oh jesus, he lives here too_ and by the time Teyla finished unbuttoning his trousers, he was fully hard before she even touched him.

He'd known that he was done protesting when he let them take his shirt, but now he _really_ knew he was done.

Teyla didn't waste any time. She had one hand curled around his cock, stroking slow and firm just how he liked, her other hand reaching deeper into his trousers and rubbing lightly behind his balls and he was gasping, arching back, Ronon's hands pressed warm on his sides to anchor him. Teyla kissed him again, two quick open-mouthed brushes, and then Ronon was nudging his head to the side as he leaned down over John's shoulder.

It was the hottest fucking thing he'd ever seen in his life, watching them kiss inches from his face, the smooth line of Teyla's neck as she stretched up to meet Ronon. He could feel his eyes going wide, his head rocking back as he stared at their lips working, pressing, their tongues slipping wetly and the white gleam of Ronon's teeth as he bit at Teyla's tongue and then released, and how both of their mouths were curved into half-smiles when Teyla made a quick hissing sound and bit him back.

And they were still touching him the whole time, Teyla squeezing his dick so slowly, Ronon pressing fingertip circles into his ribs; this was the best and worst trap he could imagine because he couldn't move more than a few inches between them. He had one hand on Teyla's shoulder and the other fisted into a handful of Ronon's trousers by his knee.

When they finally broke the kiss, Teyla took a deep breath and then she was pulling John down, pulling him over her, and Ronon let go to unlace John's boots and yank hard at the rest of his clothes, skimming off trousers and boxers and socks almost before he had time to brace himself on his elbows.

"Ronon?" Teyla said.

"Yeah, got it."

He was moving around in another part of the room but John couldn't spare any attention to see why. Not with his body pressed full-length against Teyla and her legs twined around his, her nails sliding down his chest to scratch lightly at his nipples. "You are quiet tonight," she said, watching him with that same curious smile, and John couldn't think of a single goddamn thing to say. _Nothing_ that O'Neill had told him about alternate realities had prepared him in the slightest for being yanked into bed with his teammates.

Especially when one of them flexed her hips up _hard_ and pulled his mouth down at the same time and John lost track of rational thought completely, his body just reacting, his cock shoving against the damp cotton between Teyla's legs and her breasts rubbing against his chest and he kissed her back, slid his tongue against hers, groaned and writhed and buried his hands in her hair.

The stinging slap on his ass made John jerk and grunt in surprise; Teyla was laughing into his mouth before he pulled away. He twisted around to glare over his shoulder at Ronon, who was grinning down at them. "What?" Ronon said. "You're slow. Lift up."

"What--"

His question was answered before he asked it when Ronon reached under him and hooked his fingers into Teyla's shorts, pulled them off when she raised her hips, and oh.

Totally naked woman under him.

Naked woman pulling him further up the bed--John was good at taking direction in such situations. He followed her obediently, eagerly, almost falling on top of her and making her laugh again, her heels sliding up to press behind his knees. John couldn't help it; he leaned down to kiss the corners of her eyes and her mouth, because he could hardly remember the last time he'd seen Teyla laugh so much.

Ronon's hands on his hips made him jerk again, all of his skin shivering in reaction at Ronon's chest warm against his back. "Hold still," he muttered, and nipped at John's ear.

John tried to say, "Okay," but the word disappeared in a frantic struggle for breath as Ronon wrapped a hand around the base of his cock and rolled a condom on him with quick, practiced fingers. And then his hand moved around and Ronon was pushing him and John felt like he should say something, tell them to wait because what ever happened to foreplay? but he couldn't, it was impossible to stop when Teyla was opening to take him, her ankles shifting to wrap higher around his thighs, Ronon's hand on his lower back pressing him down and _in_ and John made a strangled noise against Teyla's neck as Ronon kept pushing until he was all the way inside her.

She was hot and flexing around him, so unbelievably good, and she wasn't giving him any time to acclimate--rocking under him, her hands moving down his sides to set him rocking to meet her. John was panting, his eyes squeezed shut again because he was horribly afraid that he was going to come inside of five minutes. He doubted that his counterpart had such lousy stamina or Teyla would never have kept him around.

It didn't help that Ronon's hand was still heavy on his back, keeping him almost balls-deep, keeping his thrusts short and torturous with Teyla so damn tight around his cock. He was concentrating so hard that he barely noticed when Ronon shifted and settled behind him, Ronon's knees nudging his own farther apart.

He sure as hell noticed when Teyla shifted, though; raising her knees high against his sides and the new position drove him even deeper into her body, and John nearly bit through his own lip at how fucking good it felt.

Then she was reaching between them to brace her hands against his hipbones and pushing him slowly, slowly out of her, until only the tip of his cock was inside. Her palms held him still, right there, and she stopped moving under him.

John had a few seconds of relief for the break before Ronon slid a cool, slick finger into his ass.

He hardly had any room to move and he didn't even know what he tried to do--only that his body convulsed in shock and their hands and bodies tightened to hold him in place, Teyla whispering something he couldn't understand against his shoulder as Ronon said, "Hey, relax. You're really tense... hey, you okay? John?" and he didn't know how he reacted to that either; it was a double shock to hear Ronon use his first name, but he must have nodded or relaxed a little, done _something_ , because Ronon didn't stop. Two fingers then, working slick and aggressive inside him. 

_Yeah, no kidding I'm tense,_ he had time to think wildly, _About four years since I did this_.

His hands were wrapped in double fistfuls of the blanket under Teyla's shoulders, and he was grateful for the focus point when Ronon started pushing into him for real. His cock felt as big as the rest of him, and for a long burning moment John didn't know if he could take it. He was on the edge of asking Ronon to stop, his teeth clamped together against the stretch as he tried frantically to relax and remember how to do this, and just when he thought he couldn't, it got easier. The pain faded to the background and he was shivering hard with the feeling of Ronon's cock filling him, sliding easy with the lube and _god_ , brushing just right against his prostate.

His body tried instinctively to surge forward into Teyla as Ronon went deep, but she wouldn't let him. John groaned between his teeth as she held him off--he wanted it so badly he couldn't think, he was so close to trying to yank her hands away from his hips--but she didn't let him move until Ronon started pulling out.

It was crazy, every nerve twisting uncontrollably as Teyla finally let him thrust, the twin sensations of gorgeous tight warmth around his cock and the smooth thickness inside him as Ronon drew back, almost all the way out--he couldn't figure out which feeling he wanted more because he wanted them both at _once_ , and he heard himself growling, "Come on, come on, please--" and tried to buck his hips into the rhythm that he wanted, tried to make them follow him.

But they wouldn't, and he couldn't do anything. When he tried to reach behind him and pull Ronon in, his hand got slapped away and then they were both closing firm hands around his hips, making him move at exactly their pace. Teyla brushed kisses against his jaw and his neck with every forward-thrust; Ronon mouthed at his shoulders and the nape of his neck every time he went back.

John could feel the pulse hammering in his throat and his temples like he was seconds away from a heart attack. He was moaning and he couldn't stop himself, could barely _hear_ the noises he was making, because he was the only one moving and this was just insane. They were moving him between them, Teyla pulling his cock into her, Ronon pulling John back on his own cock, rocking him easily back and forth like their own personal sex toy. Sweat popping on his neck and all the way down his back, the brush of their lips like torture against his skin--he'd stopped caring about his stamina, stopped caring about anything except getting them to go _faster._

He didn't hear the door slide open.

He didn't hear anything until Rodney announced, loud and bitchy like always: "Wonderful! Couldn't you wait until I got home? Or hey, maybe _call me on the radio?_ You do this all the time!"

If he could've frozen, he would have. John felt his heartbeat kicking up even faster, Rodney's voice going straight to his gut and shocking him out of the desperate haze of sensation because Ronon and Teyla were _fucking_ him and Rodney was here, Rodney was _here_ , and John had never imagined anything like this in his most X-rated fantasies.

But he couldn't focus, couldn't think, and the next thing was Rodney bouncing down on the huge bed beside them, wearing only his black t-shirt and a truly hideous pair of green and pink boxers. "You people have no self-control," he said irritably, but it didn't stop his eyes from moving greedily over them. "You could have called me again."

John couldn't look at him ( _too much, too much_ ); he pushed his face into Teyla's neck, managed to unlock his jaw enough to say, "Shut up, Rodney," and then a few beats later he was laughing, because Ronon and Teyla had said it at the same time.

Laughing between them, hearing Rodney mutter, "Fine, pick on me, like always," but he couldn't be really offended when he was stripping off his shirt and leaning in, John lifting his head and watching wide-eyed as Rodney cupped Teyla's face and kissed her, curling his body alongside them, his thigh pressed warm and solid against John's knee.

And that was it, he was there, his back arching and his stomach clenching; he heard Ronon groan, "Oh, _fuck_ ," and slam forward as John's ass tightened around him, sending John hard into Teyla, her knees digging into his ribs and his cock starting to pulse, and he was right in the middle of coming when Rodney angled his jaw and kissed him like they were fucking too, Rodney's tongue in his mouth and Rodney's fingers in his hair and John whimpered and held on and his orgasm was like flying, straight up into the blue, the three of them pressing tight against and around and inside him, coming and coming until he hit the end of the loop and floated back to ground.

**Author's Note:**

> This work was originally posted in the livejournal community **oddball_sga** on 6 September 2006.


End file.
